A Very Brittany Christmas
by gigundoly
Summary: Artie wants to keep Brittany's faith in Santa Claus alive. But he's at a loss when she makes the one wish he knows will never come true. First chapter was written before the episode, since speculation is fun, and the second was written after. 2x10spoilers
1. A Very Brittany Christmas

Author's Note: I know I usually write Tartie fics, but the preview for the Christmas episode inspired me to write my own interpretation. Like most of my speculations, I expect this one to be completely wrong. But this is one way I imagine the Artie and Brittany storyline going down. One-shot. Enjoy!

* * *

Artie Abrams rounded the corner and tore down the hallway so fast that he sent some unsuspecting nerds tumbling down like bowling pins. He paid them no attention and kept going, but was finally stopped when he hit a wall of jocks. Unlike the geeks, they merely stumbled back a pace or two and looked down to find the sheepish culprit panting and out of breath.

"Watch where you're going, punk!" shouted Azimio Adams, who cracked his knuckles menacingly in front of Artie's petrified face. Puck stepped in, putting himself between Artie and the other jocks. He quickly reminded them that hitting a cripple in a wheelchair was off-limits. As the jocks dispersed, the self-proclaimed badass calmly turned away from them to address Artie.

"Start explaining or else," was all he said. Artie knew that Puck was only putting up a front for the few guys that still lingered within earshot of them. Ever since Artie started tutoring Puck in geometry, the pair got along famously. And Artie no longer had to worry about which staircase Puck would try to push him down.

"It's Brittany," he said, but he didn't want to say anything else in front of the other guys. He looked at them and then back to Puck. "Can… I talk to you in private?"

Puck took Artie's chair by the handles and ducked into the nearest classroom, which just so happened to be the astronomy room. "Don't say stuff like that to me in public," he warned. "You're still supposed to be afraid of me if anyone asks, remember?"

"Sorry," Artie said, quickly, his eyes scanning the orbiting planets. He'd found Brittany in this room during the week before Sectionals. It was where he'd given her that "lucky comb," which ultimately backfired on him. But he did get several nice kisses because of that silly old piece of junk.

"What's this about, Abrams?" Puck wanted to know.

He wrung his hands, uncertain if coming to Puck was the right move. It felt like the right idea at the time. If it weren't for Puck, he wouldn't even have Brittany. At Artie's hesitation, Puck grew impatient and looked at his watch. When Puck moved towards the door, Artie spoke up at last.

"It's Brittany," he said, again, drawing in a deep breath and firing the next part rapidly. "Brittany still believes in Santa Claus! She told me in second period today when we were talking about what we wanted for Christmas. I didn't know what to say so I just played along…"

"_Santana doesn't believe at all," she'd said, doodling a picture of what appeared to be a taco in the blank where she was supposed to conjugate the Spanish verb. "I thought that was weird. She's, like, named after the Mexican Santa Claus."_

"_Oh," he'd said, at a loss for words. The corners of his mouth twitched, however, as he stared at his girlfriend. First the magic comb, now this. Her innocence charmed him. _

"_You believe, don't you Artie?"_

"I said that I did," Artie explained to Puck, who was doubled over with laughter by now. He frowned in annoyance. "Look, I came to you for help, but if you're going to laugh at me, you can forget about your precious tutoring. You _still _owe me for the dinner at Breadstix, remember?"

"So, you want me to pay you back by not laughing?" Puck asked, incredulously, as he somehow managed to suppress his chuckling.

"Nope," said Artie. "I want you to drive us to the mall to visit Santa. Brittany said it's real important that she ask for her gift in person this year. She said she usually just mails a letter…"

Puck shook his head, but he wasn't refusing. He simply couldn't believe the lengths to which Wheels would go to please the world's dumbest cheerleader. "Whatever you say, dude."

* * *

Puck took the liberty of inviting the rest of the glee club along after school. Mercedes, Tina, Sam, Quinn, and Santana piled in, making for a very squished and uncomfortable ride to the mall. But Brittany had been thrilled, thinking that she was among fellow believers. (Well, except for Santana, that is.)

Half an hour later, they were waiting in a short line at the Lima Mall to visit Santa and his elves. Upon arriving, Artie had noticed one problematic detail that worried him a bit: Santa was black. Mercedes said she appreciated the mall's open-minded approach to Santa Claus, but Artie was concerned that this Santa wouldn't match the Santa in Brittany's mind. As it turned out, this didn't matter.

"I know he's just one of Santa's helpers," Brittany whispered, leaning over to put her mouth level with Artie's ears. His eyebrows arched but he said nothing. "Santa can't be at all the malls. But it's okay because the helper can still tell Santa what I want."

After several children, all of them under the age of ten, had taken their pictures with black Santa, it was finally Brittany's turn. Artie beamed as he watched her climb the steps and happily plop down on black Santa's lap. Black Santa recovered from the shock and greeted her with his customary: "Ho-ho-ho!"

"Well, he's got that part right," muttered Santana, with a smirk. Artie shot her a dirty look and Quinn gave the slightest shake of her head, narrowing her eyes menacingly at Santana. Like Artie, Quinn also found Brittany's persistent faith in Santa Claus rather enchanting.

"Hi, Santa," Brittany greeted, being sure to give black Santa an exaggerated wink. She leaned over and whispered in his ear: "I know you're not the real Santa. You're just a helper. But you can tell him what I want, right?"

"Er… that's right," black Santa replied, mystified.

"See, that guy over there?" she pointed out Artie. "That's my boyfriend, Artie…" She beamed at Artie, who smiled back and gave a friendly wave while the others stared on.

"I want him to be able to walk," she finished.

As black Santa furrowed his brow, at a loss for words upon hearing this request, Artie folded his arms across his chest, also quite dumbfounded. "Now we're screwed," he said, under his breath.

* * *

Later that night, Artie lay wide awake in his bed, thinking about Brittany's wish. Well, she wasn't the first. Another girl had made that wish for him. He remembered the efforts of Tina and all the time she'd spent printing out information about new research in spinal cord injuries. Artie had tried his best to please Tina, even going so far as to believe that this research would provide a cure within his lifetime.

With Brittany, it was different. Her child-like faith in Santa was going to be crushed if Artie didn't suddenly stand up out of his chair on Christmas Day and stride across the room, good as new.

He stared at the clock for hours, which passed with agonizing sluggishness. He didn't know what he was going to say to her, but he was going to have to make sure she understood – Artie wasn't going to be her Christmas miracle.

At 2:00 AM, he called her. Surprisingly, she answered the phone brightly, as if she'd been wide awake. "Oh, hello, Artie," she said, sweetly. "What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," he replied.

"Me neither," Brittany said. "I try counting sheep, but that never works because I lose count and have to start over. So, now I try to go to sleep by writing in my journal. Then it feels like I'm at school and _that _usually makes me want to go to sleep."

"Oh," said Artie, smiling in spite of his worries. "Well, listen, since neither of us can sleep, maybe we should meet for a latte before school to give us a little extra energy to get through the day."

"I love our early latte dates," she said. "See you tomorrow, Artie!"

After hanging up, he closed his eyes. He would say something – what exactly, he didn't know – to let her down gently tomorrow morning. Something along the lines of, "Santa's a really good wish-granter, Brittany, but he just can't make a cripple walk."

Artie fell asleep by writing in _his _journal for awhile, and sure enough, it was a pretty effective way to invoke sleep. It emptied his mind of all his worries to get them down on paper. In the morning, what he'd written probably wouldn't make any sense. But at least it was out of his head for now…

* * *

Two gingerbread lattes later, they were relaxing at Starbucks for the ten remaining minutes before they would have to take off for school. Artie had transferred onto a tiny leather couch. He sat up straight while Brittany sprawled out across it, her head in his lap. He stroked her hair and decided to tell her what he'd recited to himself while getting dressed for school that morning.

"Brittany," he began, nervously. "There's something I have to tell you. You're going to be ashamed of me, but… I have to tell you anyway."

Brittany sat up and twisted her body around so she could look at him. She gave his lips a gentle peck and he licked them, enjoying the taste of Lipsmackers immensely. "I promise not to be ashamed of you."

He sighed. "Brittany, I… I don't believe in Santa Claus." His eyes fell to his lap. "I know I said I did, but I don't."

Her blue eyes grew round. "Why not?"

As Artie opened his mouth to explain, he found himself distracted by the music in the background. _You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch…_ "Well, um, I stopped believing when I was eight. That was the Christmas after the accident, the one I spent in the hospital…"

"_Momma, there's something I have to tell you," Artie said, after he had set the last of his small presents aside. He'd received some pretty cool things, the best present being the shiny new guitar. Obviously, the roller blades he'd wanted were out of the question now, but the guitar was a pretty good substitute._

"_What is it, sweetheart?" she'd asked._

"_I know you and Daddy bought me all these presents," he said, seriously. "I know there ain't really no Santa Claus. But don't worry, I won't tell none of the other kids here. I think they need to believe he's real for a little bit longer."_

_Charlotte Abrams had drawn in a jagged breath as she watched the magic of Christmas leave little Artie's eyes. Just a year ago, he'd been writing letters to Santa and leaving cookies beside the mantle. Now he was sitting in his new wheelchair, looking like a small adult as he told his mother that his days as a believer were over._

"_Why do you think he's not real?" she'd asked, compassionately._

"'_Cause he can't make me walk again."_

"… And so I didn't believe in him anymore after that," Artie finished, eyeing Brittany warily. He wasn't lying to her by sharing his past, but he didn't want to cause her faith to waiver.

Brittany looked like she might cry. "I'm sorry, Artie," she said, in a whisper. "Sorry you didn't get your wish when you were eight. But is it okay with you if I still wish it? See, I figure that really big wishes – like making a cripple walk again – maybe _those_ wishes just take a lot longer. Like, I don't know, ten more years or so…"

Artie smiled, relieved to hear that Brittany wouldn't be crushed if he wasn't walking in the next three weeks. Ten years wasn't altogether impossible, he told himself. Afterall, Tina seemed to think that some of those studies would be ready for human trials in ten years. He laced his fingers through Brittany's and she, with a deep sigh of satisfaction, placed her head on Artie's shoulder.

Sometimes it was nice just to let yourself believe.

"Thanks for using up your Christmas wish on me," he said.

"It was the best wish I could think of," she replied. Then, in complete seriousness, she added: "World peace was a close second."


	2. Merry Christmas Artie

_Author's Note: Well, "A Very Brittany Christmas" turned out to be totally wrong! But I sure did enjoy speculating. In honor of a fun episode starring Artie and Brittany, I have extended my one shot. Of course, I used actual dialogue from the episode. Spoiler-ific for 2x10. Enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

Artie could practically taste the gingerbread latte when he awoke. The dream had been so vivid that he actually had to check his phone to see if he had, in fact, called Brittany at 2 A.M. But he had not done this. He had not even written in his diary. Everything from the phone call to the coffee date had been a dream. The problem remained.

Real life, he knew, would not work out as conveniently as the date in his dreams. Brittany told Santa that she wanted to see him walk for Christmas, which meant that _she wanted to see him walk for Christmas. _Ten or more years of waiting would not satisfy his precious Brittany's longing.

A glance at his alarm clock was followed by a groan. He still had half an hour before it was time to get up, but he was wide awake already. Artie took out a pen and paper and began to devise a plan in writing: "Operation Save Brittany's Christmas…"

* * *

One day later, the plan had been a complete and utter flop. Artie's idea for Coach Beiste to dress as Santa and let Brittany down gently had not worked out the way he planned. As far as Brittany was concerned, the magic of Christmas was gone for good. For Artie, it was like being a broken eight-year-old and losing his own faith in Santa all over again. He _hated _letting her down.

The least he could do was make sure Brittany got home okay and see that didn't do anything drastic like torch her pink plastic tree and set it ablaze on the curb in front of her house. The walk home was quiet. Brittany sulked as Artie tried desperately to think of alternative Christmas wishes.

"I bet Santa could get all those homeless kids a bunch of free books…" he said, thinking that his mother, as an elementary school librarian, could perhaps arrange such a gift. Brittany just shook her head and continued to mope miserably.

Artie was out of ideas by the time they reached her house. He decided to stop talking. It seemed like the more he talked the more cross Brittany became with Christmas and her lackluster visit from Santa Claus. As they entered the living room, something shiny and huge caught their eyes. There, sitting under Brittany's pink tree and wearing the most enormous red bow, was something Artie had only ever seen on the internet. He swallowed hard and stared, at a loss for words. He had to pinch himself to be sure that he wasn't dreaming again.

"What's that thing?" said Brittany from behind his chair, peering around him in bewilderment. "A Transformer?"

The incomprehensible situation had left Artie speechless. When he did find his voice, he turned to stare up at Brittany. "That's… a machine to help me walk." _An impossibly expensive machine_, thought Artie. How could Brittany's father, with his modest salary as an investment banker, afford such an elaborate gift? As far as Artie knew, the Rewalk wasn't even supposed to be on the market until January. And the price was in the hundred thousands.

"Show me!" shrieked Brittany, clapping her hands and pushing Artie's chair towards the bulky piece of machinery. She removed the bow and tossed it aside, but then stopped in her tracks and turned to him again. Brittany's words were jumbled and broken as her eyes danced with joy and anticipation. "No… wait, it'll be more special if… and Tina especially will want to… let's go back to school and show _all_ of them!"

* * *

"Artie…"

Tina's hushed voice broke the stunned silence in the room as the members of New Directions entered to find the couple alone in the choir room. They all stared in wonder at Artie's empty wheelchair and Artie, sitting a few feet away in one of the plastic chairs with a complicated contraption strapped to his body and a pair of crutches on his arms. He smiled shyly at his friends before positioning his crutches firmly on the ground and rising to his feet, the machine hissing softly as he rose. Brittany gave a delighted squeal, covering her mouth with her hands.

"It's called a Rewalk," Artie explained, smiling softly at the amazed faces starting back at him. "A guy in Israel invented it. I can't use it all the time, but… check me out."

Artie pressed a button on his wrist to make his legs ambulate. He smiled again at Brittany who continued beaming at him. His eyes then landed on Tina and he, remembering that this had been her dream for him as well, gave her a tiny smile. She nodded, confirming her recollection of that fateful day in the choir room when Artie had attempted to "walk" for her.

"Where did you get it?" Quinn wanted to know.

"We went home and it was sitting under my Christmas tree," explained Brittany, her eyes twinkling in wonderment.

"How the hell did you afford that thing?" Sam interjected, as the rest stepped forward to examine the upright version of Artie who was currently taller than they'd ever dreamed possible.

"I didn't buy it," said Brittany. "I didn't know what it was. I thought was a Transformer."

"I assumed her dad got it for me," Artie whispered to Santana. "But he has no idea where it came from. He went to take a long poop and when he came back, it was there."

Santana cringed slightly at Artie's unnecessary attention to detail, but even her cool demeanor had crumbled slightly in the presence of this seemingly miraculous event.

"So, if no one we know bought if for you then…" Rachel trailed off.

"Santa brought it," Brittany concluded.

"Santa…" Mercedes whispered in wonder.

"Santa," Artie agreed, although the Santa that he was thinking of wasn't Brittany's Santa. This Santa was the very same one who had once agreed to put a kid in a wheelchair on a football team…

"A real Christmas miracle," said Quinn.

* * *

Artie's parents were also at a loss when they saw it. He took them by all surprise by unceremoniously walking into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator to get a snack. His father gasped. His mother screamed. His sister, who had returned home from college the previous week, nearly fell out of her chair.

"What… how…?" his father sputtered, as his wife promptly burst into tears. They all gathered around their son and brother before any explanations took place to simply stand and hug. The family hadn't been able to do this simple act in many, many years.

Artie, tired out by all practicing he'd been doing (and knowing that he ought not to do too much without his physical therapist's approval), quickly took a seat in one of the kitchen chairs. He'd left his wheelchair in the garage. Finn had been kind enough to help him haul the Rewalk home, and then promptly split so that Artie could show his family on his own.

Artie opened his mouth and began explaining everything that he, after some deductive reasoning, had figured out. "… And so it looks like this was all the doing of my football coach, Dad. She really wanted me to have it so that Brittany would still believe in Santa Claus."

"How could a football coach afford such a… such a…?" Charlotte's voice gave out as she burst into tears yet again. Artie braced himself and turned to smile at Amy, his usually somewhat abrasive and sarcastic older sister. There was no sign of that Amy today. This Amy was wiping her eyes, also extremely moved by such an amazing gift.

"I should probably find out about that…" Artie said. He kept wondering when he was going to find out that it was too good to be true. Perhaps the device was only on loan, just long enough to restore Brittany's faith in miracles. He knew he could find the coach's phone number on some of the paperwork from football. He positioned the crutches and rose to his feet again.

"Sport," his father spoke up, putting a hand up to stop him. "I really hate to say this because we all love seeing you on your feet, but we'd better wait and get a recommendation from your physical therapist. She'll probably say you're a great candidate for it, because you are, but I think it'd just be wise to get a little guidance first…"

His dad was right. Artie agreed and his mother reluctantly retrieved the wheelchair from the garage. Once Artie had carefully removed the machinery and set it aside, he transferred his body back into the chair. Already, he could tell that the walking had caused some fatigue. When he tried to push his wheels, the task was more difficult than usual. The fatigue, however, was totally worth what he gained from walking. He could already detect the positive changes in his circulation just from spending some time in an upright position.

Artie wheeled himself to his room and dug out a folder from football. At the top of the roster was Coach Beiste's phone number. He still worried that he'd somehow insulted her by suggesting that she play Santa Claus because she looked the part…

"Um, hi, Coach Beiste?" he said, when she picked up.

"Hey there, kiddo," she said, gently. "Saw your new look today."

"Coach Beiste…" he said, again, simply lost for how best to say thank you for a present of this magnitude. He supposed he might start by _actually_ saying thank you. "… I… I don't even… I just… thank you. Thank you so much. I just…"

It was Artie's turn to cry now. After years of praying for such an impossible dream, he still couldn't believe it was finally a reality.

"Hey… hey…" she said, and he could hear her smiling on the other end of the line. "It wasn't _all_ me, kiddo. I've got a brother who lives over there in Israel and does work as a missionary. He's a pretty wealthy fellow, see, and lives to serve. He made his millions on the internet. Tosses around money like a pig in the mud. He always tells me that any time I need to help out a friend in need, to call him…"

"So… I… I really get to keep it?" Artie whispered. He was still waiting for someone to burst his bubble. It was more than he'd ever dared to hope for. It was more than any doctor or therapist had been able to promise in the past.

"You get to keep it," she confirmed. At this, Artie began sobbing all over again. He repeated the words 'thank-you' again and again until he could no longer speak. "… Merry Christmas, Artie."

"M-Merry Christmas, Coach."

* * *

_The End_


End file.
